


So...You Like Vegetables?

by ominousunflower



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Fluff, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousunflower/pseuds/ominousunflower
Summary: Adrien is pining hard for the florist next door, and his coworkers just hope that he’ll make a move sometime within the next century. (And before he bankrupts himself buying flowers.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine
Comments: 31
Kudos: 168





	So...You Like Vegetables?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldenSmilingBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenSmilingBird/gifts).



> Written as part of the [Lukadrien Winter Gift Exchange!](https://lukadrien-winter.tumblr.com/) You said you’d like fluff and an AU, so I hope this Florist/Tattoo Parlor fic works for you 😊 
> 
> Note: As the tags state, this is an aged-up, no-Miraculous AU. Also, in this universe, Adrien and Marinette know Rose, but they haven’t met the Couffaines yet.

Anime songs blast through the tattoo parlor’s speakers as Adrien stands at the counter, waiting for Lady Chance to officially open. The analog clock on the wall reads 10:54, and with six minutes until they open their doors, the owner is still nowhere to be seen.

Adrien snorts, idly counting the bills in the cash register. That’s nothing unusual for Marinette, who usually stumbles through the door just before the first customer walks in.

For anyone who knows Marinette Dupain-Cheng, it’s clear that she owns the shop: with pink walls, white woodwork, Chinese paintings, and an elaborate coffee station, there’s no mistaking her design choices. (Incidentally, it’s nothing like her cozy and cluttered apartment—but then, they have an image to maintain.) A few mannequins are scattered around the parlor as well, wearing designs that customers can commission from Marinette if they want. In the past month, they’ve already sold four of the sweater dress behind Adrien—and yes, one of those purchases was his, but he wasn’t about to pass up owning something that comfortable.

Nathaniel glances up from his sketchbook, an eyebrow raised. “Can we listen to some instrumentals one of these days? Maybe some movie soundtracks?” 

“Sorry,” Adrien says, grabbing the remote and pausing the music. “Superhero songs, coming right up.” He clicks through Spotify until he lands on a playlist with different superhero movies on the cover, then hits play. “There you—oh, no.”

To his horror, the _Miraculous_ theme blares throughout the shop. Nathaniel smothers a laugh and dives back into his sketchbook, leaving Adrien to remember his cringeworthy voice acting role from when he was fourteen.

The bell above the door jingles as Marinette trips through the door of the shop, her panama hat nearly flying off her head. She whips it off and tosses it onto the counter, then hastily shrugs out of her pink jacket.

“Is this for me?” Adrien jokes, flipping the hat onto his head. “The green ribbon suits my eyes, don’t you think?”

“I’ll make you one,” Marinette says absently, dropping her purse onto the counter. “I’m so sorry—I overslept, and when I was halfway here, I realized I forgot one of the designs I was working on, and then—”

“Marinette,” Adrien says. “Relax. You don’t have any appointments until 11:45 today.”

Marinette sighs and slumps against the counter. “Thank goodness.” She pauses, lips scrunched in an almost-smile. “Why are we listening to the theme from your movie?”

“We’re not,” Adrien groans. He skips to the next song, which is one of Pinar Toprak’s from _Captain Marvel._ “Seriously, though, you can—”

“Oh, no!” Marinette smacks her forehead. “I forgot to get a gift!”

“A gift?” Adrien echoes. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t missed any of their friends’ birthdays—he keeps careful track of those on his calendar, and the closest one isn’t for another few weeks. “For what?”

“Rose,” Marinette says. “Her flower shop! The grand opening is this afternoon.” She moans and lets her forehead fall onto the pink granite counter. “How could I forget?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Adrien says, patting her arm. “I’m sure Rose won’t mind.”

He’d first met the petite blonde in lycée, when he’d finally been allowed to go to public school. That had also been where he met Marinette, who ended up being one of his closest friends—along with Nino Lahiffe and Alya Césaire, of course. At any rate, after years of knowing Rose, Adrien can’t imagine her holding a grudge over something so minor.

“Still,” Marinette says. “Oh, and apparently her girlfriend’s brother will be working there, but I forget his name. Luke? Lucas?” She sighs and presses her palm to her forehead. “I’m forgetting everything today.”

Adrien laughs and pokes her cheek. “It’s fine. You’ve been busy. So what time’s their grand opening?”

“16:00,” Marinette says, straightening her posture. “And then their regular hours start on Monday.”

“Got it,” Adrien says. “And don’t sweat it—I’ll get them a gift during my lunch break.” He frowns and rubs his nose. “I guess they don’t want a flower arrangement.”

Marinette laughs. “Probably not.” She inhales deeply, then exhales. “Okay. Good.” Smiling, she pats his cheek. “And thank you. Seriously, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Well, one of us needs to stay organized,” Adrien says. “Otherwise you’d mess up the security system and lock us all out of the shop. Again.”

Sticking out her tongue, Marinette moves to her workstation and begins sorting through folders of designs. A new song starts playing from the speakers, and Adrien withers as he recognizes it from the Miraculous _sequel_.

Marinette cackles. “Oh, is this just the instrumental? Where’s your wonderful voice?”

“We are not listening to—”

“A cat with a heart of stone! Who’s sad to be al—”

“Sing one more syllable,” Adrien says, tossing a pen in her direction, “and I’m not picking up a gift for Rose.”

“I take back what I said about you being a lifesaver,” Marinette says. “You’re just a pretty annoyance.”

“Fine,” Adrien says. “At least you recognize that I’m pretty.”

“I’m trying to work here,” Nathaniel says. “Can you two move the banter to text or something?”

Immediately, Marinette spams Adrien’s phone with _Miraculous_ gifs—leaving him with no choice, of course, but to retaliate with photos of hideous runway outfits. The two battle it out over text up until Marinette’s first client appears, forcing them to end the shenanigans.

“Oh!” the woman says, as Adrien pulls up her appointment in the computer system. Her eyes flick from the floral tattoo on his right forearm, to the flock of birds on his left, to the treble clef behind his ear. “You have a lot of tattoos.”

“Occupational hazard,” Adrien jokes. “You should see Marinette. Her entire face is just one big tattoo.”

A fluffy pink towel hits Adrien’s head. “Stop telling people that my face is a tattoo!”

“How else could you be so cute, little ladybug?”

He expects another object to hit him, considering that he’s referencing the ladybug tattoo on her butt—but instead Marinette just shoots him a glare that says _I will get my revenge later._

Adrien finishes checking in the client, then sends her to Marinette’s corner to get started. Almost immediately, someone else walks into the shop, and Adrien barely gets halfway through saying _welcome_ when coherency abandons him.

Dyed, ruffled hair. Bright eyes. A snug band t-shirt. Earrings, and painted nails, and a soft smile, and…oh, no. This guy is all of Adrien’s high school fantasies rolled into one person.

But Marinette is busy with a client, and Nathaniel refuses to talk unless necessary, which means it’s Adrien’s duty to welcome him.

“Hello!” Adrien says, with a stiff wave. He notices that the man is holding a flower arrangement, pastel blue and lavender, which seems a bit strange. “Are you, uh…here to schedule an appointment?”

“No, no,” the man says. “But I might eventually. I hear good things.”

He makes his way to the counter, and every step he takes brings Adrien one step closer to a stuttering mess. When the man finally sets the basket on the counter, Adrien feels his heart spring up to his throat. “I—uh—why flowers?”

“Right,” the man says. “I’m Luka—I work at Rose’s shop. We figured we’d drop off a little gift for you guys, since we’ll be neighbors.”

Neighbors? With this dreamboat? Adrien should probably just quit now, before Marinette fires him for neglecting all of his duties. (Because, make no mistake, looking at Luka has Adrien wanting to do all sorts of stupid romantic things. He might actually start composing a poem if someone doesn’t stop him. Or a song. Luka’s wearing a band t-shirt, so he would probably appreciate a musical gift.)

“Is that alright?” Luka asks, head tilted to the side. “Or is one of you allergic? Rose said you sometimes have flowers here, so I figured it would be—”

“Yes! That’s great,” Adrien says. He grabs the basket and yanks it toward himself. “Thank you, you’re gorgeous. I mean, _they’re_ gorgeous. Not that you’re not. It’s just, I didn’t mean to, um …” He knows for a fact that Marinette is silently laughing at him, but he bravely forges on. “I’m Adrien,” he says, sticking his hand out.

“Nice to meet you,” Luka says, taking the hand.

Adrien silently notes that Luka has calluses, and wonders if he plays bass or guitar—and then he realizes that he’s been shaking Luka’s hand for several seconds too long, and pulls away with a yelp. “Sorry. I guess I haven’t quite woken up yet.”

“At noon?”

“Oh, yeah, um. I’m a night owl!” Adrien says, except he is not a night owl. He is a certifiable early bird—and he’s also a disaster whose eloquence flees him the second he meets a pretty guy. His mouth is currently functioning like that AI bot that tried to generate inspirational quotes and instead came up with _Seek success, but prepare for vegetables._

“Yeah?” Luka says. “I’m more of an early bird, myself. My best song ideas come earlier in the morning.”

Songs. He writes songs. That means Luka _is_ a musician, and Adrien should ask him what instruments he plays, because that is the logical response to what Luka just said.

“I lied,” Adrien says, and he could swear there’s sweat dripping down his neck. “I’m actually an early bird, but for some reason I said I’m not…and now you probably think that I’m changing my answer just to match yours, but I promise I’m not! Anyway, so…you like vegetables?”

Marinette barks out a laugh from across the room, and horror descends upon Adrien.

Vegetables? _Vegetables?_ He was supposed to ask Luka if he plays an instrument! Curse his thoughts, which are scrambled like the tofu he had for breakfast. 

“I prefer using flowers in arrangements,” Luka says, “but I mean, sure. Nutrition is important.”

“Right, yeah,” Adrien says. “I guess carrots don’t look that good in bouquets.”

Luka laughs, and it’s not mocking at all—it’s warm and musical, and somehow makes Adrien feel slightly less embarrassed. “Probably not.”

“Music!” Adrien says, then clears his throat. “I meant to ask what kind of music you write, actually.”

Luka raises an eyebrow. “How did you get from vegetables to music?”

“The vegetables were an accident,” Adrien says. “But you mentioned that you write songs, so…”

“Right, yeah,” Luka says. “I guess I switch between genres, but most of my songs are on the guitar. I sometimes play in a rock band, too.”

“OHKO,” Marinette playfully says, as Adrien feels his cheeks heat.

“That’s hot,” he says. “I mean, that’s cool. Playing in a band, I mean. And playing guitar! I only play piano, but I’ve always meant to learn guitar.”

“If you ever want some pointers, I’d be happy to show you,” Luka says. 

“Oh, no,” Adrien says, “I wouldn’t want to waste your time. I’m probably a terrible student.”

“What!” Marinette squawks, and Adrien turns to her with a quizzical look. “I mean, no! You’re a great student. And a go-getter! The kind of guy who _never misses an opportunity.”_

“Right,” Adrien says, slowly. He’s not sure why she emphasized that last part. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Luka. And the flowers are lovely.”

“Like me?” Luka says, his lips twitching.

“What?” Adrien says. “You’re—I mean—oh, right! I meant to ask, is it alright if I stop by during my lunch break today?” 

“Sure,” Luka says. “Did you want to grab lunch?”

“No, that can wait,” Adrien says. “We just wanted to drop off a welcome gift of our own. I haven’t picked it up yet, though, so…lunchtime?”

Luka nods. “We’ll be there all day.” He tugs on the lavender bow around the basket handle, straightening it, and then he smiles at Adrien. “Nice meeting you, Adrien. And I can try to figure out a vegetable bouquet for you, if you really want one.”

“He’d love it,” Marinette says. “May I suggest some—”

“No!” Adrien says, because he knows exactly which vegetables she is going to suggest. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m fine getting normal flowers.”

“Noted,” Luka says.

“Uh, I mean—wait, you—you don’t have to give me flowers,” Adrien says.

“You don’t want any?”

 _Oh, no._ Was that rude? Luka works at a flower shop. He probably doesn’t appreciate having someone reject his products. “No, I do!” Adrien says. “I just meant…that…you can sell them to me! I’ll come buy some once you guys officially open.”

“Don’t buy out the whole store,” Marinette says.

Adrien pouts at her. Yes, he’s prone to going over-the-top when he has a crush on someone, but Marinette doesn’t have to mention that when a hot guitar player is standing right in front of Adrien.

“I’m Marinette, by the way,” Marinette adds, giving an innocent wave. “I’m guessing Rose has mentioned me.”

“She has,” Luka says. “Something about how you’d prefer the flowers in a basket instead of a vase…?”

“Yeah, Marinette’s…” Adrien trails off, realizing that with a client about to have her arm inked by Marinette, he probably shouldn’t loudly proclaim Marinette’s clumsiness. Leaning across the counter toward Luka, he whispers, “Marinette’s great with detailed work, but she’s a _horrible_ klutz. We’ve lost so many vases that we could probably start a miniature cemetery—”

“Joke all you want,” Marinette says, “because I’m the one who’s going to be laughing in about fifteen seconds.”

“Does that mean I can give _you_ a vase?” Luka murmurs, his blue eyes looming close to Adrien’s. “Or are you clumsy, too?”

Adrien’s eyes flick down to Luka’s lips—pink like the parlor walls, a bit chapped, one hundred percent kissable—and belatedly realizes his mistake. He hears Marinette snicker from the corner, and a red-hot flush returns to his cheeks. “I—uh—no, I don’t usually break things.”

“Usually?”

Adrien leans back, even as his muscles scream to move closer to Luka. “I mean, I broke my arm once in lycée, but other than that, my record is pretty good.”

“Got it.” Luka smiles, teeth just barely peeking through his lips, like a flower bud about to open. “Well, I’ll leave you to your work. It was nice meeting both of you. Oh, and…” He keeps turning until he spots Nathaniel, who’s been huddled out of his sightline the entire time. His head is bowed as he scribbles furiously in his sketchbook. “Ah, I don’t want to interrupt. I’ll catch him later.”

“That’s Nathaniel,” Adrien says, regaining some of his composure now that Luka’s pretty eyes are no longer fixed on him. “He’ll probably say hi at the grand opening.”

“Sounds good,” Luka says. “Speaking of, I should get back to helping Rose with our set-up.” He strolls back to the door, his movements calm and languid—and then he pauses to face Adrien once more. “Again, it was nice meeting all of you. I look forward to being neighbors.”

“Same here!” Adrien says, forcing himself to grin. He watches as Luka exits the building, and then he collapses onto the stool behind the counter.

Neighbors. With that gorgeous man.

Adrien is going to die.

* * *

During his lunch break, Adrien somehow manages to scrape together a suitable gift basket: gift cards for some nearby lunch locations, two coffee mugs, some loose leaf tea for Rose, an IOU for Luka’s hot drink of choice, and fancy chocolates (nut-free, just in case Luka has an allergy). He makes it to the front door of the flower shop just as Rose is opening it, and deftly leaps out of the way to avoid getting hit by the door.

“Oh, Adrien!” Rose says, with a beaming smile. “It’s great to see you. Wait, is that for us? That’s so nice! You didn’t have to.”

“I insist,” Adrien says. “Congrats on opening the shop! Um, is it alright if I just duck inside and leave this on the counter?”

“Sure,” Rose says. “Luka’s still in the back. We’re just about to head to lunch.”

“Great,” Adrien says. His stomach flutters at the thought of seeing Luka _again,_ so soon, when he still hasn’t recovered from their previous meeting. Maybe if he’s quick enough, though, he can manage to get in and out before Luka appears. “I’ll just do that, then.”

Steeling himself, he slips inside the shop and races to the counter, barely taking stock of his surroundings. He hastily sets the basket down as something moves in the corner of his eye—and then a warm voice says, “Oh, Adrien.”

Adrien turns to Luka with wide eyes. “Oh—uh—I was just…” He frantically gestures to the basket, nearly knocking it off the counter. “Dropping this off. You can look at it later. Um, I know Rose likes tea, but I wasn’t sure if you were a coffee or tea guy, so there’s an IOU. Just let me know what you’d like, and I’ll get some for you.”

“You really don’t have to,” Luka says. “But I do like tea, so if you know of any good places around here, let me know.”

“Sure!” Adrien says, pulse thumping. _Ask him to get tea sometime,_ half his brain says, but it’s drowned out by the part of his brain that melts when it’s too close to hotness. “Since you like tea and string instruments, though, maybe I should get you a _tea-orbo.”_

No! _NO!_ Why did he make an obscure pun like that? Luka probably doesn’t even know what a theorbo is. He’s just going to think Adrien is stupid.

Luka laughs. “Cute. I can’t say I’m a very good lute player, though. I did get recruited for a local Shakespeare production once, but it’s been a while.”

Up until this moment, Adrien has never found anything about lutes or Shakespeare particularly sexy—and while he still doesn’t, he’s pretty sure that Luka could make a bard costume look hot. “Neat,” he says. “But, uh, yeah. I can recommend a few places to you later. Right now I need to go, um…”

“Have you eaten yet?” Luka asks. “You can join us, if you want. I know talking to me is a bit awkward, but having Rose there might help.”

“No!” Adrien says. “No, it’s not awkward at all! I just, um…” _Turn into a complete dork around attractive people,_ he wants to say, except that would probably be even more awkward _._ “I’m the awkward one, really. But I already ate, so maybe another time.”

Except he didn’t already eat. He’s just too nervous to go anywhere with a guy this attractive, because who knows what other stupid things might come out of Adrien’s mouth? He often puns and flirts when he’s in distress, and he’d rather not embarrass himself around Luka. (Or, well, embarrass himself more than he already has.)

“Sure,” Luka says.

“Right.” Adrien clears his throat. “Well, I’ll see you this evening, I guess.”

Luka smiles. “You know where to find us.”

With a hurried goodbye, Adrien slips out the door and forces himself to walk, not run, into the tattoo parlor. In the back room, he finds Marinette and Nathaniel eating lunch at a table together, with a third paper bag sitting in Adrien’s spot.

“I figured you’d forget to eat,” Marinette says, then takes a bite of her sandwich.

“He’s so hot,” Adrien groans, dropping into his chair.

Marinette snorts and pats Adrien’s shoulder. “There, there. You didn’t embarrass yourself that badly.”

“But I _did_ embarrass myself.”

“No, no,” Marinette says. “Luka seems nice. He probably just thinks you’re funny.”

“Well,” Adrien says, “I do have a stellar sense of humor.”

“Mm hm,” Marinette says. “So, did you ask him on a date?”

“What?” Adrien nearly shouts. “No! I was—I was just commenting on the fact that he’s hot. I’m not planning to make a move on him.”

“So,” Marinette says, drawing out the word. “Why did you visit him at lunchtime, when you could have just dropped off the gift basket at the grand opening?”

“Because—uh.” Adrien blinks rapidly as Marinette’s words sink in. “Oh, no. I should have just given them the gift at the grand opening. What was I thinking? Did I just break some sort of social code?”

“No!” Marinette says, practically dropping her sandwich. Waving her hands frantically, she repeats, “No! Adrien, you’re fine. I just figured you were looking for a reason to—”

“I’m a failure!” Adrien moans. “I know not the customs of the common people, for I was raised in a mansion, out of touch with my peers, locked in a tower by my evil father—”

“Oh, stop.” Marinette slaps Adrien lightly on the arm. “You went to public school for three years. And university for four. You don’t get to make that excuse anymore.”

“Alas,” Adrien says. “Seven years of public education cannot remove the silver spoon from my mouth. I am destined to commit faux pas after faux pas, never to understand the ways of man!”

Marinette laughs. “Sure, Monsieur Prince. Look, from what I saw, it looks like Luka _is_ interested in you, so if you do want to ask him on a date, I say you should go for it.”

“Please,” Nathaniel says, eyes fixed on the foil wrapper that he’s folding into increasingly tiny squares. “Not another Bastien.”

“Oh, him,” Adrien says, dreamily. “He was hot.”

“I know,” Nathaniel says. “We all know. You pined for months. And then did nothing about it.”

“But this time can be different!” Marinette says. “Luka works right next door. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to ask him out.”

“I never said I wanted to,” Adrien mumbles. He carefully unwraps his sandwich, mouth watering at the melted cheese clinging to the crust of the bread. “What if things went badly? Then a feud could start between our shops, and rumors might spread that we did something bad, and people might think we did something _illegal,_ and then we’ll have to close and—”

Marinette interrupts him with a wrong answer buzzer sound. “Nope. No catastrophizing. That’s my thing.”

“But he’s so hot,” Adrien laments.

“Not again,” Nathaniel mutters. “Please, not again.”

“I won’t push,” Marinette says, shrugging. “But also, you deserve someone who makes you happy. If you think Luka could do that, it’s worth going for him.”

Adrien shoots Marinette a grateful smile. Since he was younger, he’s always had what his therapist calls _moderate self-esteem issues_ —mostly thanks to his father’s unique childrearing skills—so he appreciates reminders that he deserves nice things. Marinette might tease him sometimes, but she always supports Adrien when he’s feeling bad about himself, and he couldn’t ask for a better friend-slash-business-partner.

She’s right. Adrien does deserve a nice boyfriend…even though in this case, the potential boyfriend is an unattainably hot guy who might not even be into men or be single.

Frowning, Adrien bites into his sandwich, scattering crumbs on the table. No, he might not have a shot with Luka—but still, it could be worth a try. 

* * *

Fortunately, Marinette and Nathaniel don’t have clients that evening, so they’re able to close the parlor early and head over to the flower shop’s grand opening. And this time, flanked by his friends, Adrien is composed enough to actually notice the interior of the shop when he walks inside. 

Various flower arrangements fill the room, creating a sort of winding path from the entrance to the back wall. The warm chocolate walls make the space feel welcoming and cozy, and golden evening light spills through the tall windows, making the wooden floorboards glow. There’s also some sort of display stand in the back, with a sign above it that says _RECORDS_. Framed band posters line the wall behind the display, and while Adrien doesn’t know for sure, he has a feeling that Luka might be behind that section of the store.

Oh, no. Luka. Luka is here, and it’s the third time today that Adrien will have seen him—and isn’t that a bit clingy? Who visits someone three times in one day? Technically, Luka visited Adrien first, but still. He’s going to think that Adrien is even weirder than their first meeting suggested.

 _Vegetables._ So suave. Was Adrien really one of Paris’s hottest celebrities at one point? Was he really one of the city’s most eligible bachelors? On the bright side, at least Adrien’s modeling days are behind him. He couldn’t possibly live up to his old reputation these days, when he goes around asking hot guys if they like vegetables. 

He inhales deeply and closes his eyes. _You can do this,_ he reminds himself. _You deserve nice things. You can win over the hot florist._

At this point—about an hour and a half after the grand opening started—the shop is packed full of people, all chattering and admiring the wares. Adrien carefully weaves among the crowds, making his way to the table of snacks at the back of the room.

He’s barely had a moment to survey the options when a voice next to him says, “I’m guessing you’ll appreciate the vegetable platter.”

Adrien whirls around and finds himself face-to-face with Luka. “Oh, uh, yeah! It’s great. And look at all that cheese! It’s too bad I couldn’t bring my cat. He loves the stuff.”

 _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_ he silently screams at himself. _You’re supposed to be flirting, not talking about your cat’s cheese addiction!_

“Oh, you have a cat?” Luka says. “What’s his name?”

“Plagg,” Adrien says. “He’s, um…one sec.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and pulls up a picture of Plagg staring at the camera, his green eyes deceptively innocent. “Here.”

Luka coos at the picture. “He looks sweet.”

“He’s actually horrible,” Adrien says. “A cheese thief and a destroyer of dinnerware. Plus he likes to sit on my face and suffocate me when I’m sleeping. And he steals my socks.” Adrien clears his throat, realizing that he’s rambling. “But, yeah, he’s cute.”

“Cats are like that,” Luka says. “I don’t have one now, but we had a cat named Sass when I was a little kid. He probably would’ve gotten along with Plagg.”

“For your sake, I hope he wasn’t as bad as Plagg.” Adrien’s eyes land on the racks in the corner behind Luka, which hold rows and rows of old records. “So, you guys sell records, too?”

Luka nods and wanders over to the stand, where one or two people are browsing the albums. “For now, anyway. It was my idea. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll just stick to flowers and garden stuff.”

“I think it’s cool,” Adrien says, running his fingers across a few of the albums. “We had this really fancy record player when I was growing up, but my father never played any music on it. Kind of a waste.” His nose wrinkles. “Then again, a lot of what we had was a waste.”

Luka laughs quietly. “Fancy, huh? Were you one of those high society types?”

“Rose didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Well, uh.” Adrien rubs the back of his neck, his fingers brushing the soft collar of his bomber jacket. “My dad’s rich. Or, he was, before…” _Before he got arrested for embezzlement, extortion, and a host of other crimes._ Probably not good flirting material. “Anyway. Um, I used to be famous. I figure it’s only fair to mention that. Not that it matters, really. I guess I just, uh…”

Adrien’s not exactly sure why he brought it up. Maybe it feels dishonest to flirt with Luka without letting him know what he’s getting into. Some people might not want to a date an ex-celebrity whose famous father is a convicted criminal.

Something tells him, though, that Luka’s not the sort of person to care about that.

“Yeah, um, he got arrested for some business stuff,” Adrien finishes. “I was a model for his fashion brand.”

Luka’s eyebrows lift. “I can see that.”

“You can see me being the son of a criminal?”

“No,” Luka says, laughing. “Modeling. You’re pretty, is all.” He clears his throat and glances away, pink dusting his cheeks like pollen. “Sorry, that was probably too forward. Anyway, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve got a slight criminal record, too. My mom’s not a big fan of rules, so I picked up a few bad habits when I was a teenager.”

“Oh?” Adrien says. “How much did _you_ embezzle, bigshot?”

Luka snorts. “Nothing. And I promise, I’m not too much of a delinquent. I just did a few things I shouldn’t have.”

“So did I,” Adrien says. “Like starring in the _Miraculous_ film franchise.”

Luka presses his lips together, clearly holding back a laugh—and Adrien wishes he would let it out, so that he can feel the sound warm his ears and fizzle in his veins. “You were in those?”

“Unfortunately.”

“They were cute, at least.”

“I’m still cringing almost a decade later.”

Luka laughs. “Well, we all have a few regrets.”

An awkward silence sits between them, and it occurs to Adrien that he’s probably keeping Luka from talking to other guests. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to trap you back here. I should let you go talk to other people now.”

“Oh, no,” Luka says, “I trapped myself back here. I’m not really a social butterfly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Luka says. “Actually, I’m glad you showed up. This way, I get good conversation without having to talk to strangers.”

“You don’t consider me a stranger?”

“Not really,” Luka says. “I know your name, and I have a general idea of what you’re like.”

“A horribly awkward dork who says stupid things?”

“What?” Luka says. “No, not at all. I think you’re sweet. And you haven’t said anything stupid.”

Adrien nearly proposes marriage right then and there—but fortunately, he summons enough self-control to stop himself. “Well, then,” he says, “if it’s okay with you, I’ll just keep hanging out back here.”

Luka offers Adrien another soft smile. “That’s perfect.”

From there, Adrien falls into a conversation with Luka that seems to last five minutes and forever. They talk bands and podcasts—vacation spots—favorite foods—and at one point, Luka even mentions that he has a tattoo.

“You do?” Adrien says, though he isn’t surprised. It fits with Luka’s aesthetic. “Where?”

“Oh, well…” Luka runs a hand through his hair. “Kind of all over? It’s a snake, so it starts around my thigh and ends below my collarbone. I’d show you, except…”

 _No, by all means,_ Adrien wants to say. _Show me your chest! I’m happy to look!_

“Maybe another time,” Adrien says smoothly, then changes the subject before Luka can react.

They talk until the store has mostly emptied out. Marinette and Nathaniel leave at some point—though if they say goodbye, Adrien doesn’t notice, too engrossed in discussing video game soundtracks with Luka. Eventually, no one is left in the room except Rose, and Adrien realizes that it’s completely dark outside.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grimacing. “Looks like I stayed too long.”

“Oh, did you have somewhere to be?” Luka asks.

“No,” Adrien says. “I just feel like I overstayed, is all.”

“You didn’t,” Luka says, and relief surges through Adrien. “So, if you don’t have anywhere to be, would you—”

“I do have some work to do, though!” Adrien adds. Despite Luka’s reassurances, he still feels like he took up too much of his time. “And I have to get up early tomorrow, so I should probably get going.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Luka says. “The fake early bird.”

“I really am one, though!” Adrien protests, his cheeks heating.

Luka laughs, which only makes Adrien’s blush deepen. “I know. I’m just teasing. I’ll see you around, Adrien. And thanks for stopping by. If you ever want to come by and chat, feel free.”

“Sure,” Adrien says, making his way back to the front door. “I will!”

He quickly waves to Rose, and then he bursts outside into the chilly night air.

They’d talked for nearly two hours—and still, _still,_ Adrien hadn’t managed to ask the guy out. He can already envision Nathaniel’s exasperated eyeroll and Marinette’s impassioned pep talk…both of which nearly make him turn around and ask Luka for his number. The embarrassment would definitely outweigh having to admit to his friends that this is the Bastien incident all over again.

Despite that, insecurity keeps Adrien outside, and he starts the cold walk home.

* * *

“I kind of want to order another one of these,” Marinette says, her fingers brushing the pastel flower arrangement on the parlor counter. It’s been about a week since Luka brought it over, and the petals are still soft and vibrant. “And maybe get one for my parents, too.”

“I’ll go,” Adrien says, jumping up from his stool. “I mean, if you want me to. You’ve got a lot to do today.”

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “You don’t need an excuse to go talk to Luka, you know.”

“That’s not it,” Adrien protests, even though that is exactly it. “But now that you mention it, you’d probably rather pick out the arrangements yourself.”

“Oh, please,” Marinette says. “We’ve practically adopted you. I think you know what we’ll like.” She makes a shooing motion with her hand. “Go forth and flirt.”

“That’s not why I’m going!” Blushing, Adrien shrugs on his jacket and makes his way to the door. “Any particular colors you want?”

“Maybe yellows or oranges,” Marinette says. “We’ve got a bit too much pastel here, I think. And it could match the skirt we’ve got displayed by the window.”

“Noted.”

As Adrien opens the door and steps outside, Marinette cheekily calls, “Don’t come back until you have a date!”

Grumbling, Adrien lets the door fall shut behind him.

Hands shoved into his jacket pockets, he ducks inside the flower shop. To his dismay, Luka is manning the counter today, and he’s wearing a blue denim shirt that looks far too good on him.

“Oh, Adrien,” Luka says. “How can I help you? Or did you just come to chat?”

“Where’s Rose?” Adrien blurts out, scanning the store.

Luka jerks his head toward a door to his left. “Working on arrangements in the back. Do you need her for something?”

“No, no,” Adrien says. He forces his feet to take him to the counter, closer to Luka’s brain-melting handsomeness. “I’m just here to buy some flowers. Or, uh, to place an order, if you don’t have any.”

“If we don’t have any?” Luka echoes, smiling. “I don’t know. I think I can find one or two flowers around here for you. Unless you’re looking for something exotic like turnips.”

Adrien slaps a palm against his forehead. “Right. Um, orange? Or yellow? We’re looking for something to brighten up the shop.”

“Your sunny face isn’t doing the job?”

Adrien snorts. “Guess not. So, do you guys have anything like that?” 

“Sure,” Luka says. “I mean, nothing that’s as bright as your smile, but…”

“My smile?”

“Never mind,” Luka says. “Anyway, some flowers are out of season now that it’s colder, but we can definitely put together something along those lines.”

“Oh, you don’t have to make it custom—”

“I insist,” Luka says. “You’re our favorite neighbors, after all.”

Adrien finds himself nodding along, until he remembers that the flower shop is situated on the corner. “Wait. We’re your only neighbors.”

Luka laughs. “Then consider it thanks for keeping me company the other evening. How’s that?”

“Acceptable,” Adrien says, even as he feels his heart wilt a bit. But why? It’s not as if Luka was going to say, _Actually, it’s because you’re cute and funny and I’d like to take you on a date sometime._

Florists make custom arrangements all the time. Adrien isn’t anyone special.

“Oh,” Adrien says, “and Marinette wanted me to pick up an arrangement for her parents, too. I can probably find something they’ll like if I just poke around.”

Luka nods. “Sure. Let me know if you need anything.”

 _Your number._ Adrien should say that. It would be totally smooth.

Just two words. Easy.

“Will do,” Adrien says.

Well, to be fair, that’s two words—but not the right ones.

Sighing, Adrien wanders over to a basket of pink and white flowers that he can’t identify. His mother probably could have told them what kind they were, if she were still alive; she’d always been fond of flowers.

“What are these?” Adrien blurts out, his fingers ghosting across the petals.

Luka cranes his neck to see. “Looks like cyclamen, camellias, and…maybe Christmas roses?”

“Oh. They’re pretty.”

“Do you want us to put together a modified arrangement?”

“No, no.” Adrien snatches his hand back from the petals. “It’s dumb. I was just thinking of my mother. Before she got sick, she always liked to visit gardens. She would try to teach me all the flower names, but since I was a kid, I would just run around without paying attention. I can only identify a few now.”

Stupidly, his eyes sting, and he rubs them with a knuckle before tears can fall.

“Well,” Luka says, after a pause, “it’s never too late to learn. I don’t know every flower here, but I can probably name most of them for you.”

“Oh, I mean…” Adrien finds himself smiling. “Yeah. I probably should learn a few, in her honor.”

 _A few_ turns into _a lot_ as Luka follows Adrien around the store, identifying each flower and occasionally spouting facts or observations. (Christmas roses are, in fact, not roses, and primroses make Luka think of either _Hamlet_ or pasta primavera.) By the time the two of them wander back to the counter, Adrien isn’t sure how much time has passed, nor does he remember half of the flowers Luka just taught him—he’d been too enchanted by the sound of Luka’s voice to completely pay attention.

“Thank you,” Adrien says, as he sets the basket of camellias and Christmas roses on the counter. “I really appreciated that.”

“I didn’t do much, really.”

“You did!” Adrien insists. “You cheered me up. Promise.”

“That’s good,” Luka says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, and let me grab Rose to ask her about that custom arrangement. One second.”

He slips behind the counter and disappears into the backroom, then emerges a second later with Rose in tow.

“Adrien!” she says, brushing leaves off her apron. “Luka told me you’re looking for something bright and summery! That’s so fitting. It gets so dreary and colorless in winter, and flowers are the perfect way to spruce up a room!”

“Yep,” Adrien says, smiling. “Um, I don’t really have a flower preference, as long as the colors are bright. Just let me know when it’s ready to pick up, and how much I need to pay.”

“It’s on the house,” Luka says. Before Adrien can protest, he turns to a tablet sitting on the counter and taps the screen. “What number should I call? Or text, if you don’t like calls.”

“Text?” Adrien repeats. His brain is stuck on the fact that Luka just asked for his number. “Um—I—why do you want my number?”

Luka raises an eyebrow. “To let you know when the arrangement is done? Come to think of it, I could probably just walk over—”

“Right!” Adrien says. “You, uh…I…”

“If you’d rather not give us your number—”

“No, no!” Adrien hastily types his number on the tablet, then spins it to face Luka. It occurs to him that he should tell Luka he can use the number for other things—or better yet, suavely ask for Luka’s number in return—but his courage fails him. “And texting is fine. I’m not really a fan of phone calls.”

“Oh, good,” Luka says. “Neither am I. Now, let’s see…”

Luka pulls up Adrien’s total, and as Adrien inserts his credit card, he barely even registers what’s going on. All he can think is _ask him on a date, ask him on a date_ , _ask him on a date._

But wouldn’t that be annoying, when Luka is on the clock? And wouldn’t it be awkward, with Rose standing right there? And didn’t he kind of kill the mood earlier, talking about his deceased mother like that?

Those questions are why Adrien leaves the shop with flowers instead of Luka’s number—and they’re also why he goes straight to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, hoping to postpone Marinette’s disapproving glare for as long as possible.

* * *

“You have a problem,” Marinette declares, a few weeks later.

Adrien frowns at the cat video playing on his phone. “My therapist advocates using positive language like _let’s look at some areas for improvement.”_

“Alright,” Marinette says. “Then let’s _look_ at how our tattoo parlor is slowly morphing into a greenhouse.” 

Adrien peers around the space. Sure, there are floral decorations lined up along the back wall, and a few wreaths hanging above them, and assorted arrangements surrounding the photo of Plagg on the store’s counter…and, okay, that’s a lot of flowers, but Adrien refuses to admit he did anything wrong.

“I thought you wanted to brighten up the place,” Adrien says.

“Yes,” Marinette says, “but that stopped being an issue, like, six purchases ago.” She approaches him and props her elbows on the bit of empty space near the cash register. “You have a problem.”

“Try using fewer _you_ statements. _I_ statements are more constructive.”

 _“I think_ you have a problem,” Marinette says, reaching forward to flick his cheek. “Adrien, we don’t have enough space for any more failed attempts to ask Luka out.”

“I haven’t failed,” Adrien mumbles. “I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Is that _moment_ the day they go out of business because you’ve bought everything in the store?”

“Come on,” Adrien says. “Are the flowers really that bad? They make the place less intimidating! You know, tattoo parlors can be scary.”

With one eyebrow viciously raised, Marinette gestures to the pink walls, floral art, and mannequins wearing dresses. “This was _intimidating?”_

“Uh. Well.”

Adrien doesn’t want to admit that he has a problem, but Marinette makes a compelling case. At the same time, he’s not sure what to do. Every time he walks in the door, he resolves to make a move on Luka—and then he sees Luka’s pretty face, and the words on his tongue turn to dirt, and he frantically backtracks.

Case in point: a week ago, Adrien had marched into the shop with determination. He’d watched Shia LaBeouf’s _JUST DO IT_ video so many times that he could hear it echoing in his head, he’d worn one of his best outfits (which included his skinniest pair of jeans), and he’d actually felt really good about himself that day. But of course, that was also the day Luka decided to wear eyeliner and a choker, which instantly short-circuited Adrien’s brain. He doesn’t remember what embarrassing thing he blurted out, exactly, but he does know that’s how the parlor ended up with a third wreath on the wall.

And every time Luka asks Adrien if he’s come by to chat, Adrien feels too exposed. And what’s the best cover? _Oh, no, I’m just browsing. Marinette really digs the flower arrangements._

It’s a lie. A complete lie. Marinette doesn’t dig the flower arrangements anymore! In fact, Adrien’s pretty sure the only thing she’s digging is a grave for him.

“Adrien,” Marinette says. “Please. Nathaniel is on the verge of committing murder.”

“Wait, what?” Adrien says. “Whose?”

“Yours,” Nathaniel says, without even looking up from his sketchbook.

“You don’t have to ask him out,” Marinette says, her voice gentler. That’s just a trick, though—Adrien knows she’ll help Nathaniel hide the body if he follows through on his threat. “But unrequited pining isn’t good for you, either. I just hate to see you driving yourself insane.”

“I want to ask him out,” Adrien says, slumping forward. “It’s just, I’m not super confident when it comes to romance, and the fear of rejection is…you know.”

Bad. Very bad. Honestly, he’d rather get murdered by Nathaniel than get rejected by Luka.

“I know you can do it!” Marinette says, with a bright smile. “Come on, chaton. Where’s the confidence of the guy who said, _Screw you, dad, I’m moving out and getting a giant tattoo of a fire-breathing panther?_ Let’s channel that energy.”

“That guy,” Adrien says, “is the same guy who then moved into an apartment on the same street as his father’s mansion and got a tiny black cat tattoo instead.”

“Close enough,” Marinette says. “I believe in you! Now, go.”

“What? Go where?”

“Go ask out Luka.”

“Marinette,” Adrien whines. “I _can’t.”_

“You can, and you will.” Marinette tugs on his arm until he reluctantly stands, then shoves him toward the door. “And those kitty cat eyes won’t work on me, but I bet they’ll win over Luka. Good luck!”

“But—”

The door shuts on Adrien before he can finish his sentence. A moment later, his phone buzzes with a text from Marinette. _I’m not actually forcing you to ask him out, btw. If it makes you too anxious, you can just take the afternoon off. But also, if you buy one more thing from their shop, I’m helping Nathaniel murder you._

Adrien glares at Marinette through the glass window in the door. She merely grins and gives him a thumbs-up.

He sighs, watching his breath puff in front of him. He hadn’t had a chance to put on his jacket, and Marinette’s clearly not letting him back inside the shop anytime soon…so maybe he should head inside the flower shop. Just to get warm.

Steeling himself, Adrien slips inside the shop and makes a beeline for the counter.

“Adrien!” Luka says. He’s wearing eyeliner _again,_ and a black apron, and everything about him is as ridiculously attractive as ever. “I swear, you’re our most valued customer at this point. What will it be today?”

 _A date,_ Adrien thinks. _Say “a date.”_

“Nothing, actually.” Adrien clears his throat. “Marinette, uh…said we should be good for a while.”

“That’s fine,” Luka says. “So what’s up?”

“I…came by to ask you,” Adrien says. “Uh…to ask you…”

Did he really voice a flirtatious character in the _Miraculous_ series? Was that something he did? He apparently did such a good job that legions of teenagers were thirsting after Chat Noir—and yet, in real life, he can’t even manage to flirt with a guy without saying something stupid.

Maybe he should try thinking like the character. What would _he_ say, if Luka were his beloved Ladybug?

“I just had a question about flowers,” Adrien says, leaning casually against the counter. “I figured you might be the guy to ask.”

“I do know a few things about flowers,” Luka says.

“Right,” Adrien says. “S-so…what kind of flowers should I give someone to say _I’d like to go on a date with you?”_

“Like floriography?” Luka says. “Honestly, I’d say you should just go with their favorite flower. Most people don’t know flower meanings, so your message might get lost in translation. Besides, giving someone any sort of flowers should be clear enough.”

“Noted,” Adrien says, and then he takes the plunge. “So, follow-up question: what’s your favorite flower?”

“My…oh.” Luka’s face flushes pink. Frozen, Adrien watches as the blush creeps down his neck and up to his ears, until almost all of his skin is rose-pink. “Probably forget-me-nots. We don’t have any of those, though.”

Adrien hesitates, expecting Luka to add that he’s not interested. When he doesn’t, Adrien ventures, “If I can’t buy you flowers, then, could I maybe buy you dinner sometime?”

“You beat me to it,” Luka says, smiling. “And yes, absolutely. Do you mind if I pay, though? You’ve, ah…spent a lot of money at our shop, so it’s the least I can do.”

“Um, yeah,” Adrien says, heat creeping across his face. “See, I really like your products, but I also kept buying things because I was too nervous to ask you out.”

“I had a feeling,” Luka says. “But deep down, I’m a ruthless salesperson, so I wasn’t about to discourage our highest-paying customer.”

“You, ruthless?” Adrien asks. He’s grinning, his nerves fading fast. “I can’t see it.”

Luka laughs. “I’m not, really. In fact, Rose kept telling me to stop selling you products and take you on a date already, but I wanted to let you make the first move.”

“You could have saved us a lot of trouble,” Adrien says. “Anyway, you can get my phone number from your system, right? Text me later, and we’ll pick a time and place.”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to steal customers’ numbers from our records.”

Adrien winks. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

For the first time in weeks, Adrien leaves the shop without making any purchases—and when Luka shows up to their date a few days later with a bouquet of vegetables, Adrien silently thanks Lady Luck for leading him to the perfect match. 


End file.
